


The Blackest Day

by Lthien



Category: Hannibal (TV), Hannibal - Fandom, NBC Hannibal
Genre: After the Fall, Angst, Fannibals, Hannibal Loves Will, Hannigram - Freeform, Hurt!Will, M/M, Murder Husbands, Poor Will, Possessive Hannibal, after 3x13, bloodied kisses, hannibal 3x13, hannibal is cuddly and bloody, hannibal is possessive of will, hannibal is tired of will's shit, hurt!hannibal, i googled all the medical stuff lolll, i'll probably rename this as it continues, lana del rey influenced this ok, murder muffins, the blackest day lana del rey, this was originally a drabble, will is conflicted, will is in denial, will wants to possess hannibal even in death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-03
Updated: 2017-02-04
Packaged: 2018-09-21 20:37:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9565304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lthien/pseuds/Lthien
Summary: "Damn him. Damn him. He wanted him still. His soul cried for Hannibal, even in hell. It would find him, Will knew. Nothing would stop him. Here they were eternal. Here Hannibal would devour him again and again."Set after 3x13--after the fall. Angsty and fluffy (?)I'm still unsure if I'll continue this...Leave me a comment? :)





	1. The Blackest Day

**Author's Note:**

> Wooo, this is not what I had intended to write, lol!! I hope you like it though! :)

In death, Will saw nothing. He was weightless, and his blood had long since flowed. It blackened his thoughts, and shrouded his eyes. He was calm—almost at peace. Somehow, the dark grew deeper, and his soul could almost taste the promised hellfire. He wondered briefly if he were already there, forced into silence rather than engulfed in flame. If so, he was terribly disappointed.

Even still, he floated on, drowning on the mistakes of his life. He had wanted this—had chose it, and yet he felt a deep pain in his inner being.

_Hannibal._

Was he here too, surely? Where was his throne, and where did he have to go to meet him? Would the beast let him near again? After everything? Would he…would he remember him?

Will could remember his touch still. Warm, almost human. Oh, he was wonderful. He should have held on longer. He should have let Hannibal devour him like he had wanted.

Damn him. _Damn him._ He wanted him still. His soul cried for Hannibal, even in hell. It would find him, Will knew. Nothing would stop him. Here they were eternal. Here Hannibal would devour him again and again.

_Will._

Will felt his soul scream. Had he found him already? Where was he? His body grew heavy, and he began to panic. He was being pulled away— _again_. Surely this _was_ hell. His soul cried further when he only sank deeper. He shot out his hands in the dark, surging up whilst light blinded him.

The first thing he saw was Hannibal. He was as he had left him, wet and bloodied. The beast watched him intently, his silver fringe dripping and disarray. The water fell and hit Will’s flushed cheek, the man’s blue eyes widening. His clenched fist trembled against Hannibal’s bloodied shoulder.

_They lived._

Will stared up at Hannibal with wide eyes, not yet taking in his surroundings. “A-al… _ive_?” He croaked and immediately began to cough up a lungful of water and blood. Hannibal helped him turn over, and Will wept. He cried long and hard, his hands gripping clumps of mud and sand.

Will found he could not stop, and hated the steady hand that smoothed over his back. Everything hurt, though that was not the cause of his tears. He tried to move then cried only louder, his chin dropping down in the sand. He felt Hannibal’s hand ghost over his leg.

“You should try not to move much, Will. Your leg is badly broken, and I fear a few ribs. Three to be exact. It was quite a height to fly from.” Hannibal wrapped his hand around Will’s leg and lightly squeezed, causing Will to cry out in anguish.

“A-a…and you?” Will gasped, a bloodied, and rather sandy, smile warping his face. He looked over his shoulder, his tears still racing down his sodden face. Hannibal smiled, his eyes dark, his teeth bloodied too.

“Two broken ribs, collarbone, and a few fingers. I will _live_. ” Hannibal said the last with promise, and Will closed his eyes. He let his broken body droop in the sand, choosing not to respond. He wanted to die. He was ready for it to be over…why had the devil not taken them when he had fallen so willingly?

“ _Not yet_ ,” Hannibal told him, and Will outright shivered. He knew his thoughts. What didn’t he know? Will felt hands grab him and turn him over again, his body completely malleable. 

Hannibal pulled him up and Will cried out again, one hand shooting out to grab onto Hannibal’s wrist. “D-don’t, _don’t_ ,” Will begged, his breath harsh. He shook his head while Hannibal embraced him, tucking his head under his chin. Hannibal practically rocked him, one hand tangling in his wet curls.

This hurt worse than any of Will’s wounds—the humanity of the act. He found he would rather feel the hard enamel of Hannibal’s sharp jaws pierce him rather than the comforting stroke of his hands. It felt as it had before, like his world was falling apart while coming together. Oh, _it hurt_.

“You cunning boy,” Hannibal praised, one hand pressing him only closer. Will gasped painfully, their broken bodies pressing together and becoming one beast. “They will never find us, believing us to be crushed upon the rocks.” Hannibal pulled Will back, his eyes incredibly fond and fierce.

 Will’s eyes began to droop, the pain beginning to overcome him. Hannibal pressed one chilled hand against his cheek when his head dropped low, forcing Will’s blurring sight upon him. The last thing Will remembered was the intoxicating feel of Hannibal’s lips crushed against his own, and the iron of fresh blood assaulting his taste-buds.

 “We have a guest waiting, dearest. We mustn’t be late.” Hannibal whispered against chilled lips, his eyes closed. Will was gone, and he let his limp body fall against him like a doll. Hannibal smiled and placed a hand against the back of Will’s head, keeping him from falling away from him completely.


	2. Closing In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He would mourn him for the rest of his days."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lord help me this was fast lolll  
> I just posted the first chapter a few hours ago and started this one a little over an hour ago....so. Yeah, apparently this wants to be multiple chapters. *shrugs*
> 
> I l o v e them though so it's ok <3

Their dinner plans had to be postponed, much to Hannibal’s dismay. Will had lost too much blood, and his wounds needed care. Hannibal had gotten rid of the meal in its entirety, knowing it could be easily made another time when both were further down the road of recovery. Then, after nearly two days of endless chatter, and begging, Hannibal had officially grown tired of Bedelia. He took her, drugged her, and hid her away where she would have no means of escape, and could still be easily retrieved.

Will slept for many days. Hannibal watched over him, splinting his leg and giving him the adequate pain medication needed for his ribs. Though, he too, was wounded, Hannibal did his best to patch himself up. He made himself a makeshift sling for his fractured collarbone, and splinted his own fingers. He knew that Chiyoh was watching him, if he needed her. He could feel the heat of her eyes on him every time he turned his back. He refused, knowing that she would come to him eventually, as she had in the past.

Perhaps she waited for him. Waited for him to finish off Will. Hannibal had looked out the window in the room where Will lay vulnerable, many times, before closing the blinds, his face a clear warning: _If you kill him, I will destroy you._ After the fall, surely he had every right to kill Will. After all, Will had meant to kill them both. He had meant to ruin everything they had built—that Hannibal had crafted with his own hands. Will was _ungrateful._

However, if memory favored him—and it did—Will had taken the brunt of the impact, the younger man forcing Hannibal to chase after him, as Will had done for him nearly four years ago. Perhaps a part of him wanted Hannibal to live. Meaning, Will had meant to take his life alone. The thought angered Hannibal to no end, so Hannibal chased him even in his nightmares.

Will was miserable in his comatose, barely moving, a permanent grimace on his face. His breaths were more gasps, and Hannibal had to change the sheets at least twice a day because of the sweat. Hannibal had hooked him up to an I.V. too, as well as a catheter. He did all with swift precision, cautious of every wound.

Hannibal stitched Will’s cheek with care, despite his wounds, in constant awe of him. Will had been so beautiful. He fought so bravely, and he was everything Hannibal knew he could be. Will freed himself from the shackles of morality and embraced him willingly. _Breath-taking._

Hannibal humored himself by watching Will simply breathe, wanting nothing more than to crack open his lovely skull and peer into the mind that had ensnared him so. He refrained, however, remembering the last time he had done so. Besides, it would be too easy this way. Pathetic—no. If he were to devour Will Graham, he would take great care in doing so. He would savor every piece, roast him tenderly, and enjoy him for a long time.

He would mourn him for the rest of his days.

Hannibal’s eyebrows furrowed at this thought, staring at Will curiously. Mourn him? He mused thoughtfully. He thought of how easily he had kissed the unconscious man, and how badly he had needed to do so. Gender had nothing to do with his need, nor did he question his sexuality. He wanted what he wanted, and had both female and male lovers in the past.

What he questioned was the deep _hunger_ his soul had for Will Graham. It wanted to possess him in every way possible. The beast inside him purred at the thought, wanting Will to stay forever where he lay—unable to escape him.  However, that dream did not come to pass, for after the sixth day, Will woke up.

Hannibal watched from the doorway, his shoulder pressed against the wood, quiet as Will’s eyes blinked weakly. Blue eyes searched the room, his body tensing as a flood of memories attacked him. Will looked at the I.V. and went to snatch it out, panicked.

“I wouldn’t do that,” Hannibal spoke up before Will had moved the needle. Will’s head shot up, his facial expression weary.

“You…helped me,” Will said simply and inched away from the needle, laying back in his sweaty sheets. Hannibal uncrossed his arms with a small smile and walked over to him, taking the empty chair he had sat in for many days. 

“I did,” Hannibal said simply, crossing his legs, somehow managing to look powerful in a bed-sheet made sling. Will took a deep breath, his eyes racing down Hannibal’s wounded body. He licked his lips, then paused, Hannibal curious how he would react to the stolen kiss. Will looked down, his ears tinted pink.

“Why? Why help me when you know I meant to kill you.” Hannibal’s head cocked slightly, his eyes amused, and a slim smile forming on his lips. Was he to ignore it, then? Curious.

“Did you?” Hannibal asked, his voice laced with a silent darkness. “Did you truly to end me alone, Will? Even when your body twisted mid-air, and your eyes closed even before you hit the water?” Will looked at him with wide eyes, his hands tangling themselves in his bed sheet.

“You can’t have remembered all that.” Will almost snapped. He looked at the I.V. drip instead of Hannibal, his eyes flickering back and forth in thought.

“My file of the moment is more accurate than yours could ever be.” Hannibal told him darkly, his eyes growing angrier the more Will refused to meet his eyes. He looked like he had in the past, scared and unsure of his potential, like he was seconds away from pulling out his useless glasses. Hannibal hated it. “Look at me, _William_.”  Will did, his eyes full of fire; resistance.

“Do not talk to me as if I were a child, _Hannibal_. I am tired of your games! Why are you doing all of _this_?” Will gestured at his lower half—at the catheter—and then wildly at the I.V., wincing when he pulled at his ribcage. He fell back with a pained gasp, his arm tenderly touching his flaming chest. Hannibal watched him without a trace of emotion.

“Do you really need to ask that of me? No. I think you know. You must have known for quite a while now. Who is really playing _games_ , Will?”’ Hannibal stood then and left the room. Will groaned long and hard, half wanting to scream in frustration and in pain. He rubbed his wet eyes with his palms, cursing his very survival.

Hannibal was right, of course. If anything, he, himself, had wanted to die. He was over it. If Hannibal had wanted to follow, Will would have had no complaints. Now? Now everything hurt, and was more complicated than he had ever thought possible.

Pissed, Will snatched the I.V. from his arm and threw it away from him. He felt immobilized with his lame leg, the splint seeming like a ball and chain to him. He wanted to tear everything apart, like a _child_. Will let out a choked laugh at the thought, covering his eyes and weak smile. Perhaps Hannibal had every right to call him like he would a kid. That is what he was acting like. He was pouting because he _survived_.

Will stared up at the coffered ceiling, briefly thinking that Hannibal’s tastes had followed him once again in exile. If they were to truly get away, then he would have to struggle with the cannibal over this dramatic extravagance. He paused then, thinking of what he had just slipped. If _they_. Was this his fate, then? Hannibal?

Will timidly touched his lips with two fingers. He remembered. He remembered enough for his soul to be on fire. It was…wet. It was unlike anything he had experienced before. It felt…raw. It felt like he had finally knew himself. It was only for a second, but Will had felt powerful and unreachable.

_Is Hannibal…in love with me?_

Will’s eyes stung with tears, his heart heavy. It was not possible. No matter what Bedelia had told him. Was Hannibal even capable of love? Was this just obsession? Was he just a toy to be played with?

Will touched the scar on his forehead and then tenderly touched his stitched cheek. Even without a mirror, Will knew that the stitches had been made with a steady hand…a caring hand. Even with his injuries, Hannibal had made sure to treat him with as much care as possible. He felt a tear escape then, and he quickly wiped it. He could hear Hannibal in the other room, and he wondered briefly if he was waiting for an opportunity to re-enter; an _invitation_.

Will was not ready for that. Instead, Will settled back in his bed, as uncomfortable as he was, and turned his face away from the door entirely. Maybe Hannibal would get the idea. Then again, maybe not. He closed his eyes and waited for a long time. After a while the footsteps stilled, and Will could feel Hannibal’s presence at the door, watching him.

Will blinked slowly, his breath silent. He thought Hannibal would call him out, but instead he just shut the door. Will looked over his shoulder, his blue eyes staring at the shadow of Hannibal’s slipper-clad feet under the door. The cannibal stayed for a few seconds longer before he left, Will feeling no better for it. Whatever that had awoken with Hannibal’s rash kiss would have to be pondered a different time…perhaps in a different place. Now? Will wanted to mourn his lost life. He mourned over Molly, and Walter. He wondered if they would think him dead. He hoped that they did. He hoped that they buried his memory, and moved on.

Will wept again, silently, hating himself for all the pain he had caused the ones he loved. He wept until he fell into a restless sleep, tears still running down his cheeks. He pulled his limbs in as comfortably as he could, needing to ground himself. Hannibal found him this way.

With a solemn curiosity Hannibal touched the pad of one finger against Will’s wet cheek. He then pressed the finger against his tongue, his eyes flickering in thought. He looked down at Will softly. Hannibal then brushed his fingers against Will’s curly fringe, stroking his forehead gently. 


End file.
